


Too Early

by Rivalshipping_Archive (rivalshipping)



Category: Sherlock (TV), Sherlock Holmes & Related Fandoms
Genre: Anal Sex, Consensual, Fluff, Frottage, Love, M/M, Multi, Oral Sex, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Polyamory, Possessive!Sherlock, Rimming, Smut, Threesome - M/M/M, mischievous!Moriarty, patient!John
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-24
Updated: 2012-12-24
Packaged: 2017-11-22 05:42:28
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,848
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/606414
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rivalshipping/pseuds/Rivalshipping_Archive
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Completely consensual polyamorous relationship, in which John is the long-suffering focal point of affection.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Too Early

**Author's Note:**

> it was in my head and i had to get it down
> 
> i was tempted to go D/s with this but it didn't seem right once i started
> 
> unbetad
> 
> ive never written anything as debauched as this
> 
> enjoy

John awoke to the sound of soft voices above him and the slight shifting of weight on either side. He could pick out Sherlock’s smooth tone instantly—softer than velvet as not to wake him—and soon after, Moriarty’s lighter, playful cadence. Sherlock’s large, long-fingered hand stroked up and down his hip, tightening possessively as it reached his waist and lessening over the slight curve of his thigh. Moriarty was also touching him, his almost femininely delicate fingers tracing the scar pattern on his wounded shoulder.

“Good morning, John,” Sherlock whispered, his hand tightening further with bruising force. “Sleep well?” He wasn’t quite ready to be awake, but as Sherlock and no doubt Moriarty now knew he was, there was no way he was going back to sleep without tiring both of them out.

“Mmm,” the blond murmured his assent. He leaned up blindly for a kiss, a smirk playing over his lips at the sound of Sherlock pushing Moriarty away and the resulting indignant squawk. Warm, soft lips touched his own briefly and gently. “Mm?” he questioned wordlessly.

Moriarty’s cooler lips stole a kiss before Sherlock could prevent it and John sighed in further satisfaction. “I’ve been waiting for you, Johnny. Sherlock wouldn’t let me wake you to play last night—”

“John is not your _plaything_ and he deserves _rest,_ you imbecilic—”

“Boys, calm down,” John managed groggily. “Jim, thank you for not waking me. Sherlock, thank you for not letting him wake me.”

Moriarty made a pleased sound, as if the Queen had thanked him instead of the ex-army doctor; it made a warm flutter rise in John’s chest that usually only Sherlock could provide. The detective certainly noticed and practically snarled at his sometimes-rival, pulling John close. “You’re lucky John is allowing us to share, Moriarty,” he said disdainfully, but John was able to silence whatever else he was going to say with a kiss.

Sherlock rolled them over until he was on top, trailing kisses and nips down John’s jaw and neck and over his chest. Moriarty giggled and threw the duvet over their heads, trapping the quickly rising heat and potent smell of desire. “Suck his cock,” Moriarty said intently, his dark eyes gleaming in what little light the thick duvet could offer.

Sherlock fixed him with annoyed look but did as suggested, almost reverently spreading John’s legs and positioning himself between them to lick his half-interested cock into full hardness. A flush of heat from his groin made John moan loudly, his hands flying to the back of Sherlock’s head to grip his thick curls and guide him closer. The detective hummed in agreement, sliding his tongue under John’s foreskin and pushing it down from the head of his cock.

Moriarty, not to be outdone, was swapping openmouthed, borderline rough kisses with their soldier, tweaking his nipples hard enough to make him cry out. Between Sherlock’s gentle touches, now concentrated on the base of his cock and his perineum, and Moriarty’s signature rough treatment, John felt as if he were coming to pieces. “It’s _too early_ for this,” he groaned, pulling Sherlock’s head away and turning his head from Moriarty.

The two black-haired consultants laughed, but John didn’t have the strength or presence of mind to even pretend to be affronted. He untangled Sherlock’s still sleep-mussed curls with loving fingers, feeling more than hearing him purr. “Hands and knees?” Moriarty asked almost shyly, slowly rutting against John’s waist and stroking his cheek. “Please, Johnny?”

John sighed and kissed the corner of his mouth, then shoved the duvet away, shivering from the blast of cold air on his overheated skin. Sherlock sat up, pouting infinitesimally at having John remove his hands from his hair, but soon grinning in anticipation as John turned his back.

“Make sure to relax,” Sherlock advised, searching through their sheets for the discarded bottle of lubricant left from a few days before. “Do you want me to help you?”

The doctor didn’t seem to hear him, still kneeling with his back to Sherlock and stretching his arms above his head in an effort to wake up more. Moriarty, comfortable against the pillows and headboard, openly stroked his cock at the sight, watching John’s scars reflect sunlight better than the rest of his skin. John caught his eye and flushed in satisfaction. “Faster,” he prompted, his pupils blowing even wider when Moriarty complied. He was tempted to lean forward and lick the trail of precum spilling over that delicate hand but the decision was made for him when Sherlock pushed him onto his hands and knees, hiking his hips into the air.

John sputtered indignantly and nearly turned his head to tell Sherlock off, only stopped by the sudden presence of a hot tongue on his perineum, insufficiently close to where he _really_ wanted it. Moriarty slid the head of his cock over John’s lower lip, painting it with fluid. “Here, Johnny,” he murmured, pushing it in between reddened lips.

“Shit,” John moaned against heated flesh, barely able to concentrate on this, one of his favourite sexual acts, now that Sherlock’s tongue had made its way to his arsehole and was pressing in a few millimeters at a time. “Oh, _fuck._ ”

“Ah-ah,” Moriarty crooned, stroking John’s cheek with one hand while guiding his cock into John’s mouth with the other. “That beautiful mouth has a much more important job.” He groaned in a low voice as John took him in as far as he could, which was nothing to sneeze at in and of itself, and stroked his tongue over the thick, pulsing vein on the underside.

Sherlock nipped at John’s inner thigh, smirking at the blond’s moan and Moriarty’s answering whimper. “I’m going to use my fingers now,” he warned.

John pulled off, stroking the head of Moriarty’s cock with a forceful hand, knowing his slightly masochistic tendencies. “I’m ready, love,” he assured, raising his hips even more. “’M not made of glass, I promise.”

Sherlock chuckled and pressed a kiss to his spine, slicking three fingers with lubricant. “Never thought you were.” He circled John’s arsehole with the tip of his index finger, biting his lip in concentration. At John’s wordless encouragement he slid it home; the doctor once again pulled off Moriarty’s cock to cry out, wrapping his arms around the consulting criminal’s hips and muffling his cry in the slightly out-of-shape stomach.

“Johnny,” Moriarty gently admonished. “You’ve…” He trailed off, watching the almost imperceptible ripple of muscles in John’s back as he writhed, his wildflower honey-coloured skin shining with sweat in the morning sun. Sherlock looked up as well at his stillness, meeting his eyes and then glancing down at the sight as well. John bucked his hips at the inactivity, prompting Moriarty to soothingly massage his shoulders and Sherlock to continue the movement of his fingers.

“Please fuck me.” John gripped the sheets on either side of Moriarty, licking at the dripping head of his cock. “Sherlock?”

Another slick finger slipped in beside the first, ghosting over his prostate enough to have Moriarty hiss at the sudden (if light) addition of teeth. “It’s been a while, my John. Let me take care of you.” There was a pointed cough from the other dark-haired man and he rolled his eyes. “Let _us_ take care of you.”

John smiled softly and pushed back onto Sherlock’s fingers. The detective took the hint, working a bit quicker to prepare him while Moriarty guided him into deep-throating again. “Who would have known that _you,_ ” punctuated by a sharp tug at the hair at the nape of John’s neck, “Could do this so well?”

“Be careful with him,” Sherlock said sharply, adding a third finger. “I’ll revoke all privileges if you damage him.”

Moriarty pushed John away to slide underneath him and John used the opportunity to snort derisively. “I’m a privilege now?” he asked around groans, closing his eyes and burying his face in the cool hollow between Moriarty’s shoulder and neck.

“The only one worth working for.” Sherlock positioned himself between John’s legs and slid mostly inside him, pressing him down onto Moriarty. The criminal thrust upward, rubbing his and John’s slick cocks together.

John reached up to hold Moriarty head still, circling over his temples with his thumbs and pressing insistent kisses to his half-open mouth. “Do you—do you think you can take both of us?” Moriarty asked against his lips, reaching between them to stroke both their cocks together.

“I—!” John inhaled abruptly, grabbing Sherlock’s hand and holding tightly at the sudden and intense pain of Sherlock’s full length inside him. “No,” he said, his voice tight. “No, I don’t think so. Not..." another hitch of breath, "Today.”

“Be _careful_ with him!” Moriarty mockingly shot over John’s shoulder, holding the smaller man’s head close in a quasi-protective gesture. He offset his words by stroking his and John’s cocks with force, seemingly working to wring an orgasm out of John instead of coaxing it.

Sherlock grit his teeth and pulled out of John to thrust back in and set a middling pace. “Tell me how it feels, John.” John smiled a bit, imagining Sherlock indexing his reactions and perceptions.

“Harder,” he said simply, ducking his head and sucking a dark mark into the side of Moriarty’s pale neck. Sherlock would have time to index later; John felt he had more pressing matters at the moment.

It only took a few minutes before John was moaning loudly, the tight coil of pleasant warmth in his stomach snapping and washing over him in wave after wave of pleasure. He could vaguely feel Moriarty climaxing beneath him, their combined cum slicking his still-moving hand as he helped them through the last of their orgasms.

Sherlock leaned forward over John’s back and kissed his wounded shoulder as he worked toward his completion. “Come on, love,” John murmured, tilting his head back against Sherlock’s shoulder, and the detective bit into the soft flesh just above his scar, groaning as he spilled into John’s arse. After a few hazy moments, Sherlock’s warm, comforting weight disappeared and John rolled over onto his back, shoulder to shoulder with a sated Moriarty.

“Alright?” Moriarty asked lightly.

“Mm.” John smiled at him, brushing his fingers over Moriarty’s arm. “Are you?”

Moriarty kissed him in reply, sliding his tongue into John’s mouth and coaxing his to play languidly. Sherlock came back within seconds, kneeling over John to clean his stomach and thighs with tissues, and threw the rest of the box at Moriarty. As the criminal pulled tissues for himself and threw the box back, Sherlock pulled the duvet over a once again shivering and sleepy John.

“Thanks,” John muttered into Sherlock’s chest, curling closer to him. Moriarty appeared at his back, wrapping an arm around his waist and kissing the back of his neck. “You too.”

“Back to sleep, my John,” Sherlock replied softly, at the same time Moriarty whispered “It’s too early,” into his hair. They glared at each other over John’s already closed eyes.

“Calm,” he ordered, before getting comfortable and dropping back into sleep.


End file.
